


Magic In Our Veins

by Luna_Hart



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor: Ragnarok - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Annoyed Stephen Strange, Canon Compliant, Hurt Loki (Marvel), Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Loki (Marvel) Redemption, Love/Hate, Magic, Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slash if you squint/if you want, Sorcerer Bros, Thor: Ragnarok (2017), moments in time, until it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 17:33:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13663893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_Hart/pseuds/Luna_Hart
Summary: Ten moments in time following the developing love/hate relationship between Loki and Stephen Strange





	Magic In Our Veins

I.

Dr. Stephen Strange lowered his arms, the portal through which he just sent the two men winking out of existence in a shower of copper sparks. He planted his hands on his hips, staring into middle space where the rolling hills of Norway had been visible mere moments before. He wasn't thinking of the alien beings that were currently romping around on Earth, or even of the one who had been hidden away on this planet for months. He wasn’t thinking of the damage he would find upstairs left in the wake of Odinson’s clumsiness.

He was thinking instead of a certain Tricker namesake whom he had left in free fall for a half an hour before shoving through a portal.

He remembered all too well what happened almost six years ago in New York when this self proclaimed god had arrived and almost burned the city to the ground. Hundreds of people had been injured. Many lost their lives. So when he had felt the shift of energy that resided between the planes of this world and another, when he felt an alien form of magic intrude into _his_ city, Strange had been more than a little angry.

The anger he hid, burying it deep under sarcastic quips and a few borderline frivolous uses of his powers. It wouldn’t have be professional. Yet he couldn't stop the rush of dark satisfaction at the rage that burned hot behind bright green eyes when the lean man whirled on him, blades drawn. The man hurled base insults, attacking his magical prowess and species, which Strange expected. He had expected the arrogance, the entitlement, the self-importance. _“Just like you were,”_ a small, treacherous voice whispered in his head. A voice that Strange promptly told to shut up.  
  
It had been satisfying to throw him through a portal, knowing full well he would end up eating dirt on the other side. He had expected the man to attack, to lash out like the animal he acted like. Strange felt a dark satisfaction by putting Loki in his place.

What he hadn’t expected though, was the dark shadow of fear that lurked behind the rage. In fact, the fear seemed to be what was fuelling the rage. It made Strange feel off-balance because it wasn’t what he had expected. He didn’t like feeling off balance. Instead he focused on the man’s insufferable arrogance and didn’t dwell on anything else.

 

  
II.

Stephen Strange nearly fell over, overwhelmed with a dizzying sense of darkness and _wrongness_ when a portal opened from another world. He was halfway through building a portal of his own, his sling ring feeling heavy on his fingers when another, more familiar energy shift swirled into existence and then….it all just vanished. Strange let the magic slip from his fingers, the portal he begun to build collapsing before it ever fully formed. He waited, searching and probing and chasing after that wrongness but he found nothing. Whatever it had been was gone and he hoped that would be the end of it.

Then, as if the universe just wanted to spite him, a massive ship appeared in orbit less than a week later. It circled the planet once before landing on the same cliff face in Norway Strange had sent Thor and his adopted brother.

The tingling rush of stepping through the portal sparked across Strange’s skin as he stepped out onto the lush grassy field, crossing almost four thousand miles in the blink of an eye. The wind whipped at his Cloak, swirling around his boots as he strode across the field towards the ship. What he saw then made him pull up short. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find, but it wasn't this.

This was mothers desperately clutching their children in their arms. This was grieving widows and orphans. This was wary, haunted-eyed soldiers who had seen too much, lost too many. This was men and women carrying their wounded comrades. This was a group of refugees, not some invading force.

“Thor Odinson,” Strange said briskly as the formerly mentioned walked away from the others to meet him. “Stephen Strange,” Thor said with a curt nod. The man had clearly been through a war. His hair was now shorn short, an patch covering is right eye. The one that remained shone bright with pain and loss. The man’s shoulders were slumped, exhaustion radiating from every pore.

“Lovely day for a picnic,” Strange remarked mildly, throwing a look over Thor’s shoulder to where a golden eyed man with a massive sword strapped to his back and armour-clad woman ushered the Asgardians into order.

“Asgard is gone,” Thor said stiffly, painful memories clearly still close to the surface.

“Gone?” Strange said, startled. “It is a long story,” Thor said with a tired sigh. “One I have not the energy to tell at present. I am here to request asylum, for myself and my people.” Strange blinked. “I don’t have the authority to grant such a request,” he said carefully, mind whirring. Thor nodded, clearly unsurprised. “I am aware,” the man said gravely. He shuffled his weight, looking a little uncomfortable. “I had hoped you would be able to advise me. I am unsure how this world’s leaders will react and how to proceed.”

“Well,” Strange remarked dryly as the air was suddenly filled with the thrum of helicopter blades and the grass whipped under their feet. “Looks like you're about to find out.” He felt his eyebrows arch towards his hairline as he caught sight of a familiar man, looking out of place and more than a little uncomfortable amongst the survivors. “And how exactly did Bruce Banner end up in your company?” he asked in surprise. Thor just shrugged, clearly reluctant to explain at present.

“Let me guess,” Strange interrupted before the blonde could speak. “Another long story.”

“Something like that,” Thor admitted sheepishly. Strange just shook his head. “You have wounded?” he asked. “A few,” Thor said, eyes shifting into the leader he now was. “Show me,” Strange said briskly. Thor turned, looking back towards the ship. “Heimdell,” he called, as if the man was standing directly next to him as oppose to a few hundred feet away. At his words, the golden eyed man turned and nodded, clearly waiting for the sorcerer. “Heimdall will show you the way. I feel like I’m going to be a little busy,” Thor sighed as the helicopters landed and a mix of black clad soldiers and men in suits began pouring out. Strange was grateful to see Tony Stark among them. At least Thor would have one ally to help him navigate this.

Strange turned, folding space around himself to appear next to Heimdall. The man didn’t even blink. “You have wounded?” he said briskly. Heimdall nodded, turning and striding up into the ship, clearly expecting Strange to follow.

Their boots echoed sharply as Heimdall lead him through the ship and into a smaller side room. A few dozen people huddled together, leaning against each other or the walls. There were a few others drifting around, binding minor wounds and offering water. “Who’s the most critical?” Strange asked, eyes darting to take everything in. He was truly in his element now. He almost felt a little nostalgic. Heimdall nodded to the far corner, where a few Asgardians lay on makeshift pallets. As Strange neared he recognized the lean figure crouching over a large bearded man, eyes closed in concentration as green sparks crackled between his fingers and across the painful looking burns that riddled the man’ torso and face.

Strange watched closely as the angry oozing skin began to heal in front of his eyes. The wounds weren’t healed completely as the sparks faded but they looked far better than before. It was fascinating to watch another form of magic in action. Loki’s eyes fluttered and he swayed alarmingly. Strange dropped to a knee, hands reaching for the dark hair man’s elbows to steady him. “I’m fine, just a little dizzy,” Loki protested, pulling away from the touch before glancing up. Recognition and impudence flashed across his face.

“ _You_ ,” the man hissed.

Strange rocked back on his haunches, really looking at the slender man. Loki’s skin was pale, even paler than normal. Dark shadows bruised under his eyes and his green eyes were over-bright and feverish. Sweat beaded lightly at his temples. Exhaustion lay thick across his shoulders, a slight tremor shaking through his hands. Clearly the man had pushing his abilities right to the limit.

“Where should I start?” he said simply.

Distrust and suspicion flickered over the other man’s face and Strange wondered for a moment if Loki would refuse his help but then he sighed, brushing a stray lock out of his face. “Astra,” he said simply, pointing to where a slender blonde woman lay a few feet away.

Pale blue eyes bright with pain snapped to his as Strange knelt beside the young woman. “Hello Astra,” he said gently as he slide his sling ring onto his fingers and did a quick visual assessment. “Are you a healer?” Astra said weakly. “Of sorts,” Strange replied, seeing nothing immediately amiss with the woman. Whatever was wrong must be internal.

“Most of our healers didn’t make it.”

Strange swallowed thickly. This part of his former profession, the giving comfort and support, he’d never been good at. Christine had always chastised him for that. _“And that warmth, sympathy, and understanding may outweigh the surgeon’s knife,”_ she would quote at him, much to his irritation. He’d always argue back, arrogant and selfish. He wasn’t their councillor or their mother, he was their doctor. It wasn’t his job to offer comfort, it was his job to fix them.

He finally understood now what Christine had tried for so long to bash into his thick skull. It still didn’t mean he now knew what to say. How can you even begin to offer comfort to someone who had lost their home, their world, everything? He settled for placing a gentle hand on the woman’s arm. It was all he could think to do. It seemed to be the right thing as a small brittle smile stretched across Astra’s lips. Strange nodded and focused in and _down_.

Internal bleeding and crush injuries, not discernible with the naked eye, riddled the woman’s body. It was a miracle she was still breathing. If this woman had been brought into his hospital, it would have been a slim chance that she would have survived.

 _Not now,_ Strange thought fiercely. This he could fix.

He was so focused on his work that he didn’t notice a pair of bright green eyes watching him sharply, albeit a little curiously.

 

 

III.

“Stephen Strange,” Heimdall said softly, in a deep rumbling voice that seemed to speak across time and space itself. Strange nodded respectfully as he stepped up to stand beside him. The golden eyed watcher stood up on the top of the bluff, looking down at the hundreds of Asgardians who gathered along the cliffs to remember and honour their dead. Thor had extended his desire for Strange to be there, after everything he had done to help his people in the transition. While honoured at the invitation, Strange would have felt like an outsider to be down there with the rest of them. These weren't his people. As much as he felt for them, this wasn't his loss. This wasn't his grief.

“Am I intruding?” he asked, not wanting to disturb the man if he had rituals of his own to perform, or if he just wanted to be left alone. “Not at all,” the man assured him, not taking his eyes from the waiting crowd below. They stood in comfortable silence after that, neither feeling the need to break that quiet with unnecessary words.

A strange hush seemed to fall over the crowd as two figures stepped up to the cliffs edge; one with short shorn golden locks, the other with long raven hair. They stood shoulder to shoulder, staring out across the water in silence. Small lights suddenly flared up and down the cliff and it took a moment for Strange to realize they were candles.

Hundreds and hundreds of candles, each held in the hands of the men, women, and children standing below.

Without a word, Heimdall handed him a small candle. As soon as Strange took it, the wick exploded into flame. A flame that briefly glowed green before changing into the more traditional orange fire. Strange let his eyes settle on the dark-haired sorcerer. Thor placed a hand briefly on Loki’s shoulder before stepping back a few paces. Then Loki slowly raised his arms out to either side. His head tilted back ever so slightly and Strange could feel the gathering shift in the energies around them.

Loki lifted his arms until they were level to the ground, palms up. There was a pause and Strange could feel the man falter, the magic beginning to slip away. Strange was contemplating on interfering, just enough to help bolster the other man’s strengths, when he felt the energy stabilize.

Then, all as one, the hundreds of candle flames began to float up into the air. Strange watched in fascination as the tiny spark of fire floated up past his face before drifting down the hill to join the others. Everyone’s faces were upturned as the sparks gathered and swirled over their heads.

Once, twice, three times.

As Strange watched, Loki turned his hands palms down, slightly raised as if pushing something away from himself. The sparks gathered and tumbled over each other until they finally formed the guise of a massive eagle. The bird spread its wings, throwing its head back in a silent cry before exploding into a shower of sparks that rained down on the gathered mourners, disappearing before they reached their heads.

It was beautiful.

Thor stepped up beside his adopted brother once again, clasping his shoulder in a comforting grip. They exchanged a few murmured words before Thor turned and walked into the crowd, exchanging words and comfort to his people.

Strange looked back to the cliff edge, but Loki had disappeared.

 

 

IV.

It had been six months since the Asgardian refugees had been given asylum on Earth, allowing them to remain and rebuild on a large plot of land in Norway. The Norwegian government had been very open, completely welcoming and accommodating to the strange situation. All was quiet.

Stephen Strange checked in every once in a while, also making the spells he had placed on a certain someone hadn't been disturbed. No one had forgotten or forgiven what had happened in New York, and sever restrictions had been placed on the former second Prince of Asgard, including a spell that Strange had designed to lock the man’s magic inside him. Loki hadn’t given in without a fight, one so verbally vicious that Strange couldn't help but wonder if there was more to it than simply losing his powers. In the end, Thor had managed to convince him, because what other choice did he really have?

Many thought that wasn’t enough though and still lobbied for a trial, seeing Loki a war criminal escaping true justice. Strange had been apprehensive that even with the magical restrictions, Loki would find a way to cause mischief but he had sensed nothing alarming from the other man since the ship had arrived in orbit.

Not, that is, until today.

The New York Sanctum had stood for so long, magic had literally seeped into its very stone. Between that and the many wards of protection that had been placed on the building, there was no way anyone or anything could enter the building without him knowing. In fact, no one should even be able to get in the front door.

Strange had been in his study when he felt the building shudder in alarm. Strange was on his feet, reaching out with his other sight. The wards in the library had been tripped. Oddly enough, none of the wards placed on any entrances into the Sanctum was disturbed. The sorcerer frowned and focused in. Half a heartbeat later, the book-lined walls dissolved into the vast openness of the relic room. Rows and rows of glass display cases and various shelves containing various magical and cursed relics.

“You’re certainly not supposed to be here,” Strange called out, prompting the dark haired man standing in front of one of the display shelves to glance over his shoulder. “Who, me?” Loki said with false innocence. The man was dressed in traditional Asgardian leathers and silk, though sans armour and that ridiculous horned helmet. He looked like the picture of ease, arms hanging loosely by his sides.

“Part of the asylum agreement was that you would never set foot in New York again,” Strange said sternly, striding across the room to stand beside the smaller man. “Ah, but we aren’t in New York, are we? Not really,” Loki said smoothly, mischief sparking in his eyes. “So where are we then?” Strange asked with aggravated patiently. “Somewhere…between,” Loki replied, wiggling his fingers a little. “Semantics,” Strange snapped, crossing his arms over his chest.

As if sensing his anger and trepidation, he felt the Cloak suddenly appear and wrap around his shoulders with a swish of fabric. Loki’s eyebrows shot up, recognition flickering through his eyes.“Why are you here, Loki?” he asked sharply. “And how are you here? My spell is still in place, I can feel it.” Loki gave him a sly look.

“The Cloak of Levitation,” he said instead, starting to circle around the sorcerer, eyes sharp as he looked him over. “Made by Eriniathon the Weaver, almost eleven thousand of your Earth years ago.” He reached out a curious hand. Strange didn’t even bother to warn him. The Cloak lashed up with a corner, sharply smacking Loki’s hand away. Strange braced himself for an outburst of rage, but it didn’t come.

Instead, Loki laughed. “Message received,” he chuckled, circling back around to look up at Strange. “Protective, isn't she?”

“She?” Strange said mildly, keeping up an impassive and bored expression. “She,” Loki confirmed but didn’t bother to elaborate further. He turned away, passing slowly along the various items displayed on the nearby wall. “Why are you here, Loki?” Strange asked again, putting a bit more force behind the question. The dark haired man was starting to wear on his patience. “Fascinating,” the man murmured, leaning forward to get a closer look at the large double bladed axe that hung on the wall.

“Loki!”

“I was bored,” the Trickster threw over his shoulder with a small pout. “So go be bored somewhere else,” Strange ground out between clenched teeth. The Cloak swished, sensing his growing irritation. “These is the Bands of Cyttorak, aren't they?” Loki asked, pointing at the strange vaguely human shaped mass of metal bands. Strange grimaced, remembering the last time he had seen that thing in action. “Yes,” he said with a long-suffering sigh. “ I thought it was lost when Cyttorak was banished to the Crimson Cosmos,” Loki commented absentmindedly. “Apparently not,” the sorcerer replied, not sure why he was encouraging this man. He just wanted him to leave.

“You have an impressive collection,” Loki remarked, circling around with his hands clasped casual behind his back. “Of which you seem to know much about,” he replied. Loki shrugged, the picture of ease but Strange could see the guard slam down into place. “I liked to read as a child,” he said mildly. “Anything I could get my hands on.”

“A pastime your brother didn’t share, I take it?” Strange said wryly, remembering the last son of Odin he had had in this room. Loki bared his teeth in a sharp smile. “No, my brother preferred the far manlier pastimes of hitting things with pointy sticks.”

The slender man paused and Strange caught the first hint of something that wasn't calm and self assured. Apprehension flickered over the slender man’s face and Strange pounced. “Why are you really here, Loki?”

“I really was bored,” Loki insisted but Strange wasn’t buying it anymore. He simply stared the other man down until he finally relented. “I have something that I would like you to keep safe.” Strange must have had a look on his face because Loki tilted his head mockingly.

“Not to worry,” he said with a smirk. “It’s only deadly to humans.”

“Comforting,” he replied dryly. In leu of answer, Loki raised a hand and twisted. Strange felt a strange pulling sensation behind his eyes and he blinked. In that blink, something appeared on the table nearby. He drifted closer, intrigued of the strange box-like object that Loki had seemingly conjured out of thin air. The man must have been storing it in some sort of pocket dimension. Interesting. It was also interesting that Loki could summon something from a different dimension in general. His spell should have prevented that.

Blue light swirled almost hypnotically inside the container and there was a sudden chill in the air. Curious, he reached out a hand. Loki lashed out a hand, grabbing his wrist in an iron hold. Immediately the Cloak whipped out, wrapping around Loki’s wrist with a crack.

Stalemate.

“I wouldn’t,” Loki said softly, staring down at the box with a mixture of reverence and revulsion, a curious mix of emotions that made Strange do a double take. The look was gone in a blink and Loki turned sly eyes back to the sorcerer. “Unless you want to freeze to death from the inside out.”

“Sounds unpleasant,” Strange said dryly. Loki released his wrist and with a little mental scolding, the Cloak reluctantly released the other sorcerer. “What is it?” Strange asked, circling around the relic cautiously.

“The Casket of Ancient Winters,” Loki said softly, as if simply the name explained everything. He was staring down at the relic with that same strange expression again. “And you want me to have it, why?” Strange asked, feeling like he was missing something. “I can’t…,” Loki faltered and Strange looked to him sharply. The dark haired man licked his lips nervously, eyes darting to the side. The Liesmith, known as Silvertongue, was lost for words. Strange wasn’t sure how to take it. “I just need you to take it,” Loki said quietly, yet so very fiercely.

“Very well,” Strange said slowly after a moment. “And how do you propose I move it if I can’t touch it?” he said dryly. With a twist of his wrist, Loki made the box disappeared again. As soon as it disappear so did the relic room and suddenly Strange and his unwelcome guest were in a side storage room reserved for the more dangerous relics. Loki blinked, clearly startled at the sudden change of location, but didn’t comment. “There,” Strange said, pointing to an open glass cupboard with a large empty shelf.

In an instant the box appeared on the shelf, blue light swirling aggressively. “I will safeguard this for you, however I want something in return.” A shadow flickered deep behind Loki’s eyes. “Name your price,” the other sorcerer said, lips twisting bitterly in a way that had Strange thinking there was a deeper meaning behind the words.

“How did you break my spell?” Strange asked, staring at the slimmer man intently. The shadow cleared and Loki smiled. “You are talented enough, Stephen Strange. For a human,” Loki said, slipping in a backhanded compliment with a smirk. Strange just crossed his arms, purposefully not encouraging the man.

“However you know very little of how Asgardian magic works,” Loki continued. "And you can be very unobservant. Look again." Strange frowned, focusing, feeling his sling ring weigh heaving in his hand. "The spell is perfectly intact," he breathed. “How? And how did you not trip the wards on the entrances?” Loki just smiled. No bitter twist or sharp, sarcastic edge. It was a real smile, small but Strange could tell it was genuine.

“A story for another time, Strange,” Loki said with a wink and then he was gone. Disappeared like he had never even been there. Strange huffed, feeling too riled up to continue his translations now. Whether he liked it or not, Strange’s curiosity was beginning to win out over his general dislike of this man and his arrogant attitude.

 

V.

“Stephen Strange!”

Strange jumped at the bull-like bellowing that echoed through the Sanctum. He descended the main staircase to the front entrance, finding Thor standing in scorched armour and supporting an equally charred Loki with an arm wrapped around the smaller man’s torso. Both men were supposed to be off world, having taken the ship back to check the ruins of Asgard. “Please,” Thor pleaded, panic warring in his bright eyes. “Help him.”

“What happened?” Strange asked, stepping swiftly to their side as Thor startled at their sudden change of location. They were no longer in the entranceway, but were now in the Sanctum’s infirmary. “On the table,” he ordered briskly.

“I. Am. Fine,” Loki protested stiffly, starring daggers up at Thor. “I can heal myself.” Thor wasn’t having any of it. “Your seidr is drained and you are badly injured, brother. I know you are, however you hide it under your illusions,” he hissed softly as he manhandled the dark haired man up onto the bed-like table. “What happened?” Strange asked again, shrugging the Cloak off and letting it drift gently to the side of the room. “There was an explosion,” Thor said stiffly. “It was my fault—,”

“Oh, do shut up,” Loki snapped, the first indication of discomfort slipping through his carefully crafted mask as he clenched his eyes shut. “You can leave now,” Strange said, eyes scanning over his patient and noting the tension the other man was holding in his muscles. “I will stay,” Thor argued and the sorcerer could almost see Loki tense further.

“Are you injured?” he asked briskly. “No, but I—,” Thor began and this time it was Strange that cut him off. “Then you can leave. Now,” he added as the blonde man hesitated, clearly uneasy about leaving his brother. After another pause and a look thrown back to his brother, Thor look his leave. A moment later and an echoing boom of thunder announced his departure.

“He’s gone,” Strange said softly, turning back to the dark haired brother sitting on the bed. “I noticed,” Loki said dryly, still pinching his eyes shut. “You can drop the act now,” he elaborated, stepping closer and leaning against the side of the bed. It was clear as day Loki wasn't going to be comfortable revealing whatever injuries he had in front of the blonde man.

Loki turned feverish and suspicious eyes to meet the sorcerer’s, his jaw set mulishly. “I can’t treat you if I can’t see the problem,” Strange said sternly. Loki took a breath, clearly wrestling with something. Then, slowly, the skin on the back of his hand bubbled and turned red. His clothes blacked further and crumbled in places, the leather charred through to the skin. Strange kept his face passive, but cringed on the inside. By the smell alone, he could tell the burns he would find would be sever.

“How did this happened?” he asked. “Accident,” Loki replied hoarsely. Strange began to gently move the ruined clothing out of the way to try and assess the damage. “Sorry,” he said as Loki hissed sharply, pain clouding his eyes. “Right, we need to remove this before I can even begin to do anything.”

It was a long and slow process, Strange using a mixture of scissors and magic to remove the man’s ruined shirt and leather vest. Every once in a while, a shudder of pain would lace through Loki’s muscles. That wasn’t the odd thing. That was to be expected. Chasing the tremors was a strange bluish tint that disappeared as soon as the muscles calmed.

Slowly the extent of the damage was revealed. Besides the red skin patterning the back of both the sorcerer’s hands and forearms, the entirety of Loki’s back was a charred, angry mess. Bubbles of skin and puss scattered between skin so charred it was practically black. Strange could help the sympathetic breath that hissed through his teeth. “How did you walk in here, let alone still conscious?” he asked, aghast.

A flicker of that old arrogance flared as Loki smirked. “My people are far hardier than you fragile humans.” Strange didn’t bother to comment. “Lets get you laying on your front,” he said instead. That same blue tint flickered and raced across Loki’s skin as Strange helped the man to lie down. Strange frowned. “You’re brother is gone,” he said again. “Adopted brother,” Loki corrected automatically and Strange struggled not to roll his eyes. “I need you to drop the illusions,” he said briskly. “All of them,” Strange interjected swiftly as Loki opened his mouth to argue.

He could hear Loki’s breath catch in his throat and his mouth snapped shut with a click. “Nothing I see or here will go beyond this room,” Strange said calmly, waiting as patiently as he could. He could almost hear the gears shifting in the other man’s head.

Then, like a ripple, Loki’s pale skin vanished, transforming into an ice blue hue. Strange scar-like ruins appeared, tracing across his skin in intricate patterns. Loki turned his head away sharply, but not before Strange got a good look at the blood-red colour that flooded through the normally green irises. Strange said nothing. Instead he closed his eyes and focused on his work.

It was a long process but slowly and surely the red on Loki’s back began to recede, the skin slowly knitting back together. Finally, smooth new skin covered the man’s back, with no indication of the horrific injury that had been there before. He moved onto the man’s hands, placing his own gloved ones gently atop the burns. It was odd, the placement of the injuries. It was as if the man had shielded something or someone from the blast.

Finally Strange pulled himself out of the healing trace, finding the man’s skin not only whole again but pale and pink, the last hints of the blue disappearing before his eyes. Loki sat up, inspecting his hands closely.

“Not bad, for an amateur. And if you speak of what you have seen to anyone—,” the man began to threaten.

“You’re welcome,” Strange interrupted dryly, stepping away in the face of the man’s seemingly ungrateful attitude. “Why do your hands shake so much?” he heard Loki ask and he froze. He glanced down at his own hands, at the perpetual trembling that was getting worse now that he was focusing on it and remembering.

“You can leave now,” Strange said softly, not bothering to turn around to face the man. “Touched a nerve there, didn’t I?” Loki said smugly, digging at something inside Strange with his slippery, needling tone. It was infuriating how the man always seemed to need to have the last word, to always be the one in control. Strange whirled only to fine himself alone in the infirmary. He cursed under his breath, annoyed at himself for allowing the man to get under his skin.

 

 

VI.

“Strange!”

Stephen Strange was beginning to get annoyed with random people showing up in his Sanctum unannounced and bellowing his name. He drifted down to land gracefully at the top of the stairs from the balcony above, feeling the need to put on a little show for this particular person.

Loki stood at the base of the stairs, eyes blazing with barely controlled rage, hands clenched into trembling fists by his sides. Strange could understand now why so many people were terrified of him, why he was considered so dangerous and unpredictable. All Strange saw was a spoiled child throwing a tantrum.

“Loki Odinson,” Strange said pleasantly, a triumphant smile tugging at his lips as Loki’s lips twisted into a sneer at the mention of that name. “You managed to interfere with a very delicate incantation that required a great level of concentration,” the dark haired man snarled.

“I am aware,” Strange said calmly.

He had felt the pull at the spell he had placed on the other sorcerer months ago. While the spell didn’t do what Strange had intended it to do, it did alert him whenever the other man used magic. Loki either hadn’t found a way to break the spell, or thought it just wasn't worked at all.

“You dare—,” Loki began, taking a menacing step towards the sorcerer, but Strange cut him off. “You know all too well the conditions of your asylum on this world.” He began to slowly descend the stairs, carefully and quietly beginning to gather the energies around him in the beginning of a binding spell. “Conditions I might add, you are yet again breaking by coming here.”

“Semantics," Loki spat. "You had no right." Green sparks cracked in-between his fingers. “I have every right as Sorcerer Supreme and protector of—,” Strange began but not it was Loki’s turn to scoff and interrupt. “Sorcerer Supreme? And they call me arrogant,” he snapped, his rage manifesting into a tangible force in the air between them.

Strange cocked his head to the side, refusing to exude anything but a calm front in face of the other man’s unbridled rage. “Is that why you dislike me so much? Because now you are no longer special, no longer the most powerful wizard in the room?”

“Do not think you can even begin to compare yourself to me, _human_ ,” Loki spat the word as if it were the worst insult imaginable. “You are nothing like me.” Strange just chuckled, stepping down the last few steps to stand eye to eye with the slender man. “Oh, I think we have more in common than you’d like to admit,” he said softly, eyes sharp as they took in the doubt flickering in those abnormally bright green eyes. 

He gathered a careful tendril of energy, reaching out towards the other man’s mind. Immediately he felt an invisible resistance, so unlike the rough hewn walls he had encountered from other people. This was like touching a clear pane of glass, smooth and edgeless. “Or at least in common with the old me,” he amended, trying to get under the other’s skin. “Self-important and self-absorbed, blind to the world, to the pain and loss of others.”

“And what have you ever lost?” Loki growled, getting up in Strange’s face. “You have gained everything. Power, recognition, influence. What do you know about sacrifice?”

The room shifted in a snap of barely controlled rage as Strange’s calm evaporated. He grabbed the other man by the throat and slammed him against the wall, in a different room than they had just been in. The cool touch of a blade kissed his throat, followed by a echoing crunch and grunt of pain as the Cloak wrapped around the Trickster’s other wrist and slammed it against the wall.

“Do not talk to me about sacrifice,” Strange said in a deadly quiet tone. “I’ve sacrificed more for this world than you could possibly imagine.”

Was it his own imagination, or was there a small flicker of fear in the Liesmith’s eyes. “Don’t test me, _Asgardian_ ,” Strange growled, throwing the name in Loki’s face as if an insult, knowing that was how the man would take it. “I could rip your magic from your body, taking and taking until there is nothing left but an empty shell.”

That was the opening he needed. He felt that glass shield that encased the man’s mind crack, ever so slightly. A little extra pressure and a flood of panicked thoughts leaked out into Strange’s mind.

_You can’t._

_I won’t let you._

_He tried but failed. You will too._

_It’s all I have left of her._

Strange froze. Loki’s eyes widened as he realized what the sorcerer had done. He snarled and a raw blast of pure energy knocked Strange back and halfway across the room. Only the Cloak stopped him from slamming into the adjacent wall.

“You think you can just break into my mind?” Loki growled, iron and ice filling his voice. “To break me?!” Energy cracked in the air around them. “The greatest terror in the galaxy couldn’t break me, what makes you think you can?!” Hysteria began to creep into the man’s voice, his eyes rolling wildly.

Loki’s mental wall slammed shut again, throwing Strange out with a backlash headache so strong it almost made him stumble. Suddenly Loki was mere inches from his face.

“Let’s see how you like it,” the man snarled softly.

Before Strange could stop him, Loki’s hand was pressed to his forehead and the room fell away around them.

 

_Rain lashed the windshield. Tires squealed. He felt like he was floating, suspended in mid air as time slowed. Then everything slammed into darkness._

_Cold. Ice. He couldn't stop shaking._

_Christine. Christine’s panicked eyes. Christine’s worried, watery eyes._

_“Hey. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”_

_Watery eyes filled with pity._

_Pain. Panic. Ruin. He was ruined. Nothing left, nothing worth it. He wasn’t worth anything anymore. Everything he had worked for was ruined. They had ruined him._

_He was ruined._

_“Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain!”_

No, not this. Please, not this. Not again.

_Pain._

_So many different types of pain._

_Burning pain. Stabbing pain. Bubbling, searing, hot pain. Cold, freezing, numbing pain. Quick, instant pain. Slow, crawling pain. Lingering, unending pain. Pure, raw pain._

_He never imagined there could be so many different types of pain._

_And death._

_Over and over and over. Death, death, death. Again and again and again._

_“Dormammu, I’ve come to bargain!”_

_Pain, death, repeat. Pain, death, repeat. Paindeathrepeatpaindeathrepeatpaindeathrepeat…._

 

“Enough!”

Strange lashed out with a blast of barely controlled energy, throwing Loki across the room. The dark haired man didn’t have the advantage of the Cloak and slammed hard into the wall, slumping winded to the ground.

They stared at each other, both heaving in rough gasping breaths. Loki’s eyes were wide, shock plain on his face. Regret snuck into those green orbs and Strange bristled. He knew what emotion would come next.

Pity.

Strange couldn't stand pity. It was a useless emotion, offered by people who didn’t understand suffering. “Get out,” Strange said softly, his hands trembling uncontrollably now. “I…,” Loki began, but Strange didn’t want to hear it.

“Get out!” He bellowed, taking a step forward. The dark haired man winked out of existence, leaving Strange alone with his memories.

 

 

VII.

“Dr. Strange,” a calm, British voice called from the doorway. Strange managed not to jump, turning around with a mildly irate look on his face. “Doesn’t anyone knock anymore?” he said crossly, frustrated for not the first time that this man’s strange existence warred with the natural balance of things. “Apologies,” Vision said. “But myself and Thor Odinson require your assistance.”

“No,” Strange said stiffly, seeing who it was that Thor held limply in his arms, standing once again in his foyer. “I understand you’ve had…difficult dealings with my brother in the past,” Thor began, shamefaced. “That’s one way to put it,” Strange drawled, feeling the Cloak swish around his ankles as it picked up on his irritation.

“This was my fault,” Vision said guiltily. “Sometimes my nature can be…unpredictable. I was only trying to protect myself from Loki’s magical intrusions, but the backlash sent him into this catatonic state and I have been unable to reach him.”

Strange sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Things used to be so simple. “Put him on the table,” he instructed, having already transported them into the infirmary. “I will leave you to it,” Vision said, clearly uncomfortable, and took his leave. Thor placed the unconscious Loki on the bed. “Thank you, Stephen Strange,” he rumbled softly as he passed. “Uh huh,” Strange huffed.

Strange stared down at the former Prince, watching closing as his eyelids twitched and jumped as if dreaming. Vision was the living carrier of the Mind Stone after all. He could have unwittingly trapped Loki in a memory loop or a walking dream. “Okay, here we go,” he muttered, reaching out with a gloved hand. He felt his astral form bloom out from his physical body, floating to hover over the unconscious man. The sorcerer reached down, covering his own physical hand resting on Loki’s forehead with his astral one, and closed his eyes.

 

_He opened his eyes into darkness._

_It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. He stood on dark, sparkling blue rock with massive craggy cliffs rising around him. Stardust glistened off of everything, making the barren plane glisten and shine._

_The vastness of space stretched out in every direction, with stars twinkling and strange planets slowly rotating in their orbits. Distant galaxies sparkled in the far away darkness. Strange shivered. As beautiful as everything was, there was something sinister about this place. A restless malice that hovered over everything, watching, waiting._

_Strange turned in a circle, trying to get his bearings, trying to find any sort of clue as to where Loki was hiding or trapped. Finding nothing but more rock, he picked a direction and set out. This strange, flat asteroid couldn’t be that big._

_After what felt like hours of walking, Strange was getting frustrated. He was just about to give up when soft, gasping breaths made him turn._

_He almost didn’t see him, dark clothing and hair blending seamlessly with the surrounding rock. He approached slowly, not wanting to startle the man. Loki was sitting with his back up against the rock, face pressed against his knees and hands fisted tight in his hair. “This isn’t real,” the man was whispered, a mantra he desperately repeated over and over and over._

_Loki flinched as Strange neared, but didn’t look up. If anything, he pushed himself further back against the rock. This was something Strange never thought he would see, a side to this man he never guessed existed. He was shaking, tremors racing through his muscles uncontrollably. Loki was clearly reliving trauma, something terrifying that he had buried deep inside and didn’t let anyone see._

_“This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real,” Loki kept whispering._

_“No, it isn’t,” Strange said softly._

_Loki flinched again, fevered and panicked eyes rising to meet his. “Strange?” the man asked hesitantly, doubtfully. It was understandable, considering he could see right through the sorcerer. “I think you’ve been here long enough, don’t you?” Strange commented mildly, crouching down beside him._

_“I don’t…I can’t reach…,” Loki faltered, rising a hand as green sparks sputtered and died across his fingers. “They won’t let me,” he whispered, his hand trembling._

_Strange held out his own trembling hand, not bothering to ask who ‘they’ were. Surprise and suspicion flickered across Loki’s face. “Let me help,” Strange murmured, holding Loki’s gaze. He could literally feel the war that was wrestling inside the other man but finally Loki nodded jerkily, his hand sliding into Strange’s._

_The sorcerer closed his eyes, focused on the green spark in his minds eye that was Loki._

_He gathered that spark gently but firmly in his astral hands and_ pulled.

 

Strange came back into his physical body with a snap. At the same time, Loki sat bolt upright with a gasp. “Easy,” Strange soothed, placing one hand flat against the man’s heaving chest, the other helping to steady him by gripping his shoulder. Loki’s eyes rolled wildly, tears welling in the corner of his eyes as he struggled to breath.

“Easy. Just breath.”

Strange kept talking, voice low and rumbling as he guided Loki through slowing his breathing. He felt the slender man actually lean into the touch, just a little. Then the switch flipped and he shrugged off Strange’s touch sharply. He jumped off the bed but his knees buckled and he would have fallen if not for Strange’s quick reflexes.

 _“Do not touch me,”_ Loki snapped, shoving off the helping hands. “Loki?” Thor’s voice echoed in the outer hallway, followed by echoing footsteps. Loki’s eyes flashed with panic and he turned his back to the door. Before Strange could say or do anything else, Thor shoved his way into the infirmary, Vision close behind.

“Loki?” Thor asked hesitantly. Loki huffed a breath and turned. Strange blinked. Gone was the vulnerability, the panic, the fear. The mask was firmly back in place as Loki pulled a bored and irritated face. “Are you alright?” Thor asked, taking a half step forward.

“Yes, of course I’m alright. Why wouldn’t I be?” Loki said flippantly. “I was unsure as to what damage my defence may have caused,” Vision said warily. The dark haired sorcerer pulled a face and flapped a hand dismissively. “You trapped me falling for hours on end. Seems to be an irritating trend of late,” he added, throwing a dirty look towards Strange. The sorcerer raised an eyebrow and kept a bland expression on his face.

“Good,” Thor breathed, relief washing over his face. “I feared—,” he tried but Loki brushed him aside. “Yes, as fascinating as listening to all your fears would be, the less time I have to spend in this place the better.” With that, he strode out of the infirmary without a backward glance.

Strange waved aside Thor’s thanks and Vision’s apologies, his mind still focused on the raw fear and panic he had seen reflected in a certain pair of green eyes.

 

 

VIII.

Stephen Strange was sitting at his desk when he felt the displacement of air behind him. “I see you’ve finally managed to break my spell,” he remarked mildly as he mentally reset the wards that had been tripped by the other sorcerer’s appearance in his Sanctum. "Not that it was doing much anyways," he grumbled, closing one of the ancient books he had open beside him.

“What do you want?” he asked patiently, shuffling through the papers of the ancient text he was currently translating. A bloom of green light beside his left elbow revealed a small wooden box. The top was lushly carved with intricate vine work and norse ruins. The top was a maze of small turning wheels, metal balls, and carved grooves that looked like they would slide when pushed.

“What is it?” he remarked mildly.

“A peace offering,” he heard the man say softly behind him. He turned, finding Loki standing easily in the middle of the study, hands clasped loosely behind his back. He was dressed, for once, not in Asgardian leathers and silks but in a fine black suit not unlike the clothing he had worn the first time they ad met. “It’s an Asgardian puzzle box,” the lean man explained. “You must solve the maze to be able to open it.”

“And what will I find inside it?” Strange asked suspiciously. Loki smirked mischievously. “You’ll have to solve it to find out.” Strange raised an eyebrow. “I could just open it right now,” he drawled, copper energy swirling around his raised fingers. Loki’s smirk pulled into a full grin. “Ah, but where is the fun in that?” he teased.

An awkward silence settled over the room. Strange kept silent, watching Loki shift his weight nervously. “I’m…,” the man faltered, the second time Strange had seen the man with the silver tongue lost for words. “I should not have intruded into your memories, before.” Strange waited but the man said nothing more. “Weak excuse for an apology,” he drawled. Anger sparked hot across the man’s eyes and Strange could see the man visibly struggle to reign in his temper.

“I apologize,” Loki said through clenched teeth. “There now, that wasn’t so bad was it?” Strange proclaimed with a taunting smile. Loki grimaced. “Well, if you’re only going to insult me,” he snapped and turned to leave. “What was that place?” Strange asked, causing Loki to pull up short. He didn’t bother elaborating. He knew Loki understood, if the tension that radiated across the man’s shoulders said anything.

“It’s where I fell,” he said softly, avoiding the sorcerer’s eyes.

He didn’t elaborate and Strange didn’t push. He knew that Loki fell from the Bifrost and the next anyone saw of him he was stepping through a portal to Earth, looking wrecked. He could put two and two together.

“What were you hoping to achieve with Vision?” he asked instead, moving the conversation away from the clearly dangerous subject. Loki huffed, but seemed grateful for the topic change. “I was attempting to probe the stone in the creature’s head,” he explained. “I had to know.”

“Know what?” Strange asked with a frown. “If it was indeed the Mind Stone,” Loki said, much to Strange’s surprise. “Why does it matter?” he asked suspiciously. “Because two Infinity Stones on the same planet is too many,” he said softly. “Two Infinity Stones?” Strange said softly, completely shocked. He knew Loki didn’t know about the Eye of Agamotto. He couldn't. Then he realized what the man was talking about.

“You saved the Tesseract from Asgard’s destruction.” he said slowly, trying to understand. “Why?”

“The fires of Ragnarok may have destroyed the Tesseract but the Space Stone inside would have been unharmed,” Loki snapped. “I wasn’t about to let it just float across the galaxies to be picked up by the first crazed warlord that happened upon it.” Strange had a feeling there was something more specific behind the man’s words. He weight the options and then acted.

“There aren’t two Infinity Stones on Earth,” Strange said, eyes sharp as they watched Loki’s reactions. “There are three.”

“Three?” Loki said carefully. “The Eye of Agamotto,” Strange explained, unsure the reason he felt compelled to tell the other sorcerer any of this. “The Time Stone,” Loki whispered, swallowing thickly. “That’s too many in the same place. He’ll know. He’ll come for them.”

“Who? Who will come?” Strange asked, slowly standing to his feet as Loki’s terror became a palpable force in the room. “The Mad Titan,” Loki whispered, as if the very name would conjure this demon that seemed to hold so much sway over him. Strange felt the blood drain from his face. He knew that title and the name that accompanied it.

_“Thanos.”_

 

 

IX.

Loki fell to his knees, no longer having the strength to stay upright. The battle had been fierce, the casualties too high. But they had won. They had beaten The Mad Titan.

  
_Thanos was dead._

Loki gasped, hysteric laughter threatening to bubble over his lips. He had not expected to survive. Thanos had made it very clear that when he arrived, he would find Loki first and tear him to shreds. Slowly. Loki could still remember the fear that had paralyzed his chest that day. The moment had finally come, with that horrific voice still echoing in his head, when he had a choice to make. He could run and keep running forever, or he could make a stand and most likely be the first to die.

Much to everyone’s surprise, especially Thor’s, he had chosen to stay. He became a valuable asset, being the only one to have had any dealings with their enemy. Valuable, that is, until a strange ship had appeared in orbit and a human man -- accompanied by a green woman, a blue woman, a tattooed man with an aversion to shirts, a small woman with strange antenna, a living tree, and a small talking animal that Barton kept referring to as a _‘trash panda’, --_ showed up. They claimed to be the Guardian’s of the Galaxy and apparently they were here to help.

Two of the women turned out to be daughters of The Mad Titan himself. Their expertise was far more thorough than Loki’s own and he gladly let them step into the role of adviser. After that he, made a point to stay out of their way. They made him twitchy. He was successful for the most part, until one day when the blue skinned one cornered him on the balcony of Stark Tower.

“You’ve had personal dealings with my father,” she said bluntly. Loki said nothing, clenching his jaw tight enough to ache as he stared out over the city. “He left his mark on you. I can tell,” she continued. “And what would you know about it?” Loki hissed, whirling on the infuriating woman with sparks of magic gathering around his hands on reflex. She didn’t startle, though. She clearly wasn’t scared. She simply stared back at him impassively.

“Because he left his mark on me too,” she said simply.

The sparks died as Loki’s breath rushed out in surprise. “Nebula!” the green skinned woman called sharply from inside. The so-named woman marched back inside without another word. At the doorway she paused and glanced back. Whatever she was looking for in his face, she seemed to find. She gave him a curt nod and then disappeared back inside.

Loki blinked back to the present, coughing and failing to clear the grim and dust that seemed to coat his throat. He looked around at the destruction, the burning trees, the crumbled ruin of Thanos’ ship, the bodies strewn about like dolls.

People were wandering about now, searching for survivors. This was the reason that Loki had always hated war. Thor and his father had revealed in it. They used to come home with glorious stories of victory. They always left out the aftermath. So did the storytellers and the poets. They left out the death and the dying and the screaming. And the smell.

Loki blinked, a flash of familiar dark hair and ridiculous facial hair catching his attention. It was Strange, walking slowly and seemingly without purpose, across the battlefield. He passed by wounded, by helpers, without giving them a single glance. And they didn’t look at him either.

He blinked again, finally realizing that what he had first taken for obscuring smoke was actually the lack of colour about the sorcerer. In fact, the man lacked any substance at all. He was completely see-through. _Astral projection,_ Loki’s exhausted brain supplied.

“Strange,” Loki croaked but his voice barely carried past himself. He swallowed and tried again. “Stephen Strange!” he bellowed. The astral form of the sorcerer paused and looked over at him. And then rolled his eyes.

 _“So you’re still alive then,”_ Strange drawled as he appeared before Loki, voice echoing a little like he was at the end of a very long tunnel. “What’s wrong with you?” Loki asked stupidly. “Why are you like that?” Strange rolled his eyes again. _“I thought it would be obvious,”_ he said, surprisingly camp.

_“I’m dying.”_

“What?” Loki whispered, a cold flush washing over him. For all he had hated the man at first glance, Loki just hadn’t had someone who could challenge him on his level in a very long time. He’d never had someone who wielded the mystic arts of magic and was also a man. He’d always thought he’d be doomed to suffer the ridicule and distain of practising what was considered by his people to be a feminine art alone.

This wasn't a scenario he had ever entertained. The man standing, or floating, before him always seemed so untouchable, so unbeatable, so unbreakable. All those long months of them hating each other, butting heads and almost coming to blows on multiple occasions but also comparing and testing spells, creating new ones, learning from each other.

He couldn't just be _dying_.

 _“Yes, it’s a bit unfortunate,”_ Strange said, calmly tucking his hands into his pockets. _“But what can you do?”_

“But…why can’t you heal yourself?” Loki snapped, unable to keep the fear from creeping into his voice. _“I’ve nothing left,”_ the man said, shrugging. _“I’m tapped out. Completely drained.”_

“Then I’ll heal you. Where are you?” Loki struggled to his knees, glancing across the ruined landscape. _“You’re barely better off yourself,”_ Strange said with a gentle chuckle. “You’ve always underestimated me,” Loki snarled, struggling to his feet and almost falling flat on his face as the world swam and darkened around him. _“Look at you, you can barely stand!”_ Strange argued but Loki wasn’t having it. He lashed out, gripping a hand firmly in the front of Strange’s non-corporeal robes, much to the sorcerer’s shock, and yanked him close.

“Where are you?” he snarled.

Strange sighed and Loki could actually feel the man give up the argument. _“This way,”_ he said patiently.

Loki stumbled after the sorcerer’s floating projection. He tripped over debris and people alike, not allowing his tired brain to focus on what was crunching under his feet. Finally though, he tripped over something that groaned. He glanced down, eyes catching on the familiar arm bracers and the shattered remnants of a bow lying nearby.

“Barton?” he gasped, kneeling down to dig the archer out from under a large metal panel. He gave the man a once over as he fluttered back to consciousness. Remarkably, the man was mostly unscathed besides the large bruised lump that throbbed in the centre of his forehead. Barton blinked, struggling to focus on Loki’s face. Then he groaned, closing his eyes again. “Argh, I want another nurse,” he grumbled. Loki just rolled his eyes.

The relationship between himself and the archer had been strained, to say the least. Mostly non-existent, if Loki was being completely honest. He had gone out of his way to avoid the man once he had been brought into the planning for the defence of the Earth. He had often felt Barton watching him with something dark and hateful lurking behind his eyes. It had all came to a head when Loki found himself yanked into a small storage room one day, an arrow pressed up against his carotid artery.

“Why?” Barton hissed, so many swirling emotions loaded into such a simple question. His eyes were wide and heated and hectic and Loki swallowed the burning guilt that fizzed up his throat like bile. No one had ever asked him why he had done the things he did. They always just assumed they had known his motives. Yes, he had been ambitious. He had been small minded, jealous, childish, full of hate and blame. Blaming everyone but himself, but it wasn’t only that. There was more to it then that.

“I was scared,” he confessed softly.

He flinched as Barton’s grip tightened against his leather vest, the arrow pressed harder against his throat. “Don’t fucking lie to me,” Barton growled. “No lies,” Loki whispered. “No tricks. Not this time. Just the truth.”

Barton snarled, slamming Loki against the wall. He searched the man’s eyes, seemingly looking for something. Loki didn’t even breath. There was a shift in the archer’s eyes and Loki found himself slammed back against the wall again, hard. When he looked up, the archer was gone.

That had been the last interaction Loki had had with the man, until they stood side by side on the battlefield and fought side by side.

“Can’t you just let me die in peace?” Barton groaned. _“The feeling's mutual,”_ Strange muttered from where he was currently floating crosslegged behind Loki’s head. “Both of you, shut up,” Loki snapped, removing the last of the debris currently pinning the archer’s legs. “Both of us?” Barton groaned, sitting up with a wince. “Am I not the only one seeing double?”

“Come on, up,” Loki said, pulling the archer’s arm over his and helping him stand. It took all his willpower not to crumble with the extra weight. “Did we win?” Barton gasped, baring most of his weight on his own two feet as he took in the carnage. “We won,” Loki confirmed. “Tasha,” Barton mumbled. “I need to find Tasha.”

“I need your help first,” Loki insisted, glaring up at Strange. The floating sorcerer huffed a silent sigh, unfolding his legs and floating in the direction of a smouldering clump of trees. “Come on, little Hawk,” Loki urged. Barton glared at him, hints of suspicion and a deep loathing lingering in his eyes but he followed without another word.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Barton asked as they stepped around the twisted and charred branches, having acquired a gun from somewhere on the journey. Loki didn’t say anything, too busy watching his footing and the floating sorcerer to answer. Finally, Strange stopped. Loki glanced around wildly until he spotted a pair over familiar blue-wrapped boots sticking out from behind the charred ruin of a fallen tree.

“There,” he cried, stumbling across the remaining distance. “Aw shit,” Barton muttered behind him but Loki wasn’t paying attention and he fell to his knees next to the broken body of the Sorcerer Supreme.

Strange was crumpled into the scorched ground, covered in ash and dirt with his Cloak lying in tattered shreds around him. The Eye of Agamotto lay cracked and charred against the man’s chest, the stone completely shattered. He was deathly pale, a deep stab-like wound to his thigh bleeding sluggishly. Multiple lacerations slashed across his chest and arms and his entire left side was a blackened, charred mess. His breathing was shallow, almost non-existent, and rattled in a way that indicated crushed ribs and punctured lungs.

“We’re too late,” Barton said softly, even as he bound the remaining strips of the Cloak tightly around Strange’s thigh. “We’re not,” Loki growled, glaring up and past Barton’s head to where Strange’s astral form was hovering. _“Yes, you are,”_ the man sighed, crouching down across from Loki.

 _“Just let me go,”_ he said gently.

“Not gonna happen,” Loki snapped, glaring the sorcerer dead in the eye. Barton frowned, glancing around but unable to see what Loki did. “Get back in your body right now or so help me, I will shove you back in myself!” Loki snarled, knowing full well that he wasn’t strong enough to carry out his threat. By the sad expression on his face, Strange knew it too. “Don’t you dare give up,” Loki snapped fiercely as he felt, to his shame, tears beginning to burn his eyes. “Not now. You can’t.”

 _“It’ll hurt,”_ Strange said softly, looking back down at his broken body. _“Here, I feel no pain. I’ll just fade away. If I go back, I’ll die in agony. Is that what you want?”_ he asked, looking back up to Loki with sad eyes. Loki swallowed thickly.

“Healing hurts,” he said, something his mother used to tell him when he was first learning how to heal. “And I’m not going to let you die.”

A small smile pulled at Strange’s lips and he just shook his head. Then he disappeared. Loki gasped, looking around wildly. “No,” he whispered, heart pounding in panic before the body beside him flared back to life. Both he and Barton jumped as Strange sucked in a rattling, wet breath, his eyelids fluttering.

A horrible, choking moan slipped past the man’s lips and Loki leaned forward, brushing sweat-soaked hair off the man’s bloody forehead. “You’re not going to die,” Loki whispered fiercely. “You hear me? I’m not going to let you.” Strange’s eyes fluttered open, locking onto Loki’s in a moment of clarify. Then pain clouded his eyes, his mouth twisting into a grimace. “I think I might hate you,” the man whispered harshly, voice rough and ruined. Loki barked a harsh laugh. “Now whose the liar?” he teased.

The barest hint of a smile pulled at Strange’s lips. Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he convulsed. A weak cough ripped from deep within his chest and spilled blood past his lips. Loki cursed under his breath. He had to move fast.

He placed his hands on Strange’s chest, calling on every scrap of his magic that was left in his body. Then he stopped, glancing franticly up to Barton. The archer stared at him for a long moment before nodded. “I’ll watch your back,” he promised. Loki nodded and then closed his eyes, letting himself slip into a healing trance.

Loki had never in his life pushed himself and his magic to this point. He poured himself into the spells, until he had nothing left to give and then he used his own life force to continue. Slowly, oh so slowly, he began to feel tissues knit and blood clot and bones snap back into place. Slowly he pulled the sorcerer back from the void.

Finally, the man under his hands was stable enough for Loki to withdraw. Carefully, he ended his spells and pulled himself out of the trance. He opened his eyes to see the finally sparks of green light fading from his fingers and Barton watching him with sharp eyes. He felt the core of light at the centre of himself that was the essence of his magic guttering like a candle in the wind. He had absolutely nothing left.

“He’ll need further medical attention,” Loki croaked, glancing over to Barton. “You’re not looking too good yourself, sparkles,” the archer said, actual worry laced in his words. “I’ll be fine,” Loki whispered as a roaring rushing noise filled his ears. Spots danced before his eyes and his chest hurt. It hurt a lot. His breath caught in his throat and his vision went dark.

He didn’t even remember hitting the ground.

 

 

X.

It had been four months since the people of Earth and their allies defeated The Mad Titan, Thanos, and saved not only the Earth, but the entire universe. In that time, they had begun to rebuild. If there was one thing to be said about human beings, they were a hardy bunch.

Stephen Strange stood in front of the Rotunda of Gateways, staring out across a vast expanse of rolling grassy hills and stormy grey seas. The wind whipped at his hair, bringing the scent of salt in his nostrils.

He didn’t need his wards to know of the arrival of a certain dark-haired sorcerer behind him. “How can I sense your presence so easily now?” Strange asked the sea, not bothering to turn to address the other man properly. “How is it that all I need to do is focus on the idea of you and I instantly can tell where you are?”

“You draw your power from the world around you,” Loki answered, coming to stand beside as they looked out through the door. “My power comes from inside me. It is a part of me, in every way.”

“So when you healed me,” Strange murmured, trailing off at Loki’s nod. “Healing is an intimate affair amongst my people,” Loki continued. Strange didn’t bother to comment on the shift of language, Loki considering himself one of the Asgardians instead of an outsider now. “You can leave behind an echo of yourself. This echo usually fades but—,”

“But you were running low on reserves and spun your own life force into your spells,” Strange smoothly took over for the other man. “So now I carry a piece of your magic within me.” Loki nodded again, shifting his weight nervously. “Essentially, yes,” he said quietly. “And in your foolish attempt to save me, you stopped your own heart,” Strange finished dryly.

The slim man blushed, much to Strange’s amusement. “I, ah…,” the man stumbled, clearing his throat. “I didn’t know you knew about that.”

“Barton told me,” Strange said with a smirk. “He spent twenty minutes performing CPR before more help arrived.” Loki blushed even more, a red flush creeping up his neck and staining his ears. Strange decided to take pity on him.

“Why are you here?” he asked. Loki cleared his throat a little self consciously.

“Ah yes, I brought you something.” Loki reached up a hand and twisted. Strange frowned when nothing happened and then a light flapping sound reached his ears. He jumped, glancing down in shock at the feeling of a familiar red fabric settling across his shoulders. The folds wrapped tightly around him in a parody of a hug. “What…?” he stumbled, running a hand down the fabric, practically feeling it vibrating with happiness. “How…?”

He glanced up at Loki, who looked a little nervous for some reason. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to fix it better,” Loki admitted and Strange could feel the patchwork-like stitches that crisscrossed the once smooth and seamless Cloak.

“No,” Strange choked, voice soft and full of wonder. “It’s perfect.”

Loki’s lips pulled into a small smirk, eyes sparking mischievously. “You certainly are an odd one, Strange,” he said with a shake of his head. “I think we’ve moved beyond last names by now, don’t you?” Strange replied primly, settling the Cloak a little better on his shoulders. Loki’s small smirk pulled into a full-blown grin, easy and carefree like Strange had never seen it before.

“Very well, _Stephen_ ,” he said with a soft chuckle.

They stood in silence for a long while, just enjoying the view and the fresh air. “Did you ever solve the puzzle box?” Loki suddenly asked, curiously. A small smile tugged at Strange’s lips.

“That is a story for another time.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This popped into my head after seeing Thor: Ragnarok which was fantastic! As always, feedback is my fairy dust. I had never ever entertained every writing with these characters so let me know how I did and if you'd like to see more! xx


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